


Every Kid Over the Boards

by houdini74



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Angst in the middle but it all works out, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Light Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21533401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74
Summary: Patrick is a professional hockey player. David is David. Can they make their relationship work?
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 140
Kudos: 473





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The real hockey world is a giant toxic mess. This story does its best to avoid that world. Other than the beginning, there isn't much hockey in it. Unless you count David watching Patrick play hockey, which isn't the same thing at all. 
> 
> Just to double down on the Canadian, the title is from the Stan Rogers song Flying.
> 
> The second chapter will be posted tomorrow.

**PATRICK**

Patrick collides with the player in the green jersey, forcing him into the boards. He feels a twinge in his shoulder as the crowd roars its appreciation. Ahead of him, up the ice, Papi headmans the puck into the offensive zone, passing to Willie and Patrick forces his legs to move so he can catch up to his linemates. 

“Brewsky!” Papi slides him the puck as he comes through the crease, he lifts the puck, putting all of his forward momentum into the shot. There’s a loud clanging sound as the puck rebounds off the goalpost and a disappointed groan comes from the crowd. There’s no time to berate himself for missing the open corner of the net, he chases the puck into the corner, fighting off the Dallas defenceman and freeing the puck. He passes blindly behind the net, knowing Papi is lurking there, out of reach of the other team’s defense. Just as he turns to follow the play, a roar comes from the crowd as Papi tucks the puck into the far side of the net. He points at Patrick, celebrating his pass before raising his hands in the air. 

There’s two minutes left in the third period and the goal has put them up by one. He skates down the bench, tapping gloves with his teammates before taking his spot on the bench, drinking gatorade and doing his best to catch his breath. With such a slim lead, he knows the coach will have their line back out on the ice again before the end of the game.

Dallas pulls their goalie with a minute and a half to go. Seconds later, he feels a tap on his shoulder and they’re over the boards and back on the ice. The rink feels crowded with the extra skater, the Dallas players are squeezing them in their own end, forcing them off the puck and shooting wildly at Freddy. The goalie fights off the last shot and it squirts out in front of the net, drifting towards center ice. Patrick leaps to the puck, willing his aching legs to move he dekes around the defenseman. It’s open ice to the empty net, he takes a step across the blueline and slides the puck home; the crowd yells its appreciation as the horn sounds.

He makes it back to the bench and waits for the clock to run out. With a two goal lead, their team’s shutdown line is on the ice, holding back the final onslaught from Dallas before the clock runs out. With a final shot from the point, the horn sounds and the game is over. He hops onto the ice to celebrate with their goaltender, tapping him on the head with his glove before joining the rest of the team and heading back to the bench.

He follows his teammates down the tunnel to their dressing room, jubilant at the win. Patrick hopes the media will want to talk to Papi, he’s exhausted and he hates media interviews. His shoulder is tender from the hit, if it’s still sore tomorrow, he’ll have to get the trainer to look at it. In front of the dressing room, the media scrums Papi and he’s able to slip through to the showers. Changed and dressed, he’s about to leave for home when one of the guys from the front office taps him on the shoulder.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Just one.”

“The Rose family wants someone to appear at a charity event tomorrow.”

He makes a face. He’d rather do media interviews than schmooze with a bunch of rich people. Even if they do own the team. Although his multi-million dollar contract means that he’s technically wealthy himself, he still feels like a small town kid from rural Ontario.

“I know. But it looks good for the team’s foundation and they requested you.”

“Fine. Text me the details.”

The other man nods and claps him on the shoulder, making him wince. “Thanks. And good game tonight.” 

The benefit is at an enormous house in York Mills. Patrick pays his driver and walks up the cobblestone pathway to the stone steps in front of the entranceway. After he’s delivered his remarks and shaken hands with Mr and Mrs Rose he heads to the open bar at the back of the room. At his request, the bartender gives him a craft beer and he turns to survey the room. 

“I hate these things.” The voice comes from a tall, dark-haired man beside him. His designer black and white suit is a perfect fit for his lanky frame.

“Yeah.” He takes a drink of his beer. “Me too.”

“I happen to know where there’s an empty room, if you wanted to find a quiet place to...talk.” The other man gives him a sideways glance as he sips his drink.

Patrick meets his eyes, they’re dark and hot. He nods sharply and follows as his companion slips out the side door behind them into an empty hallway. They pass a couple of closed doors before the other man opens a door and gestures him inside with a backwards glance over his shoulder.

It’s a bedroom. A king-sized bed sits in front of the large ceiling height windows. Before he can take in any other details, the other man spins him around, shoving him backwards, his mouth hot and urgent on his own.

“God, David. I missed you.” In response, David presses him against the door, his hands pushing on his injured shoulder, making him hiss with pain. David pulls back.

“You okay?” David’s hands are gentle now, smoothing the fabric of his jacket, along his shoulders, coming to rest on either side of his heart.

“Mmm, just tweaked my shoulder last game. You’ll just have to be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle.”

“Are you? That’s not how I remember it.” He reaches up to cup David’s face, kissing him again, slow and soft this time.

“How long can you stay?”

“Practice is tomorrow afternoon. I’m all yours until then.”

“We’ll have to make the most of it.” David smooths his hands down the front of his jacket before sliding them inside and up to his shoulders. “Off.”

He shrugs out of his jacket, leaning back against the door to watch as David folds it carefully over the back of an adjacent armchair and removes his own jacket to do the same. David turns back to him, his eyes are hungry as they glide slowly up his body. Patrick throws his head back as David bites softly at the base of his throat. “Marks.” The soft murmur is a reminder. When they can, David loves to mark him, but tomorrow he has to be in the locker room with his teammates. David licks gently at the same spot before he lifts his head and he runs a finger down the side of Patrick’s neck to the top button of his shirt.

He holds David’s eyes with his own as David’s fingers work open the buttons of his shirt; he shivers as David’s hands brush against his skin. The shiver turns to a gasp as those same fingers find his nipple, pinching and rolling. His shirt is fully unbuttoned, David pulls it open, frowning when he sees the blue athletic tape on Patrick’s right shoulder before he bends to press his lips to the ball of his shoulder. Patrick can feel the heat of the kiss through the tape.

“What do you want?” David’s voice is rough.

“We’ve got all night, let’s see where it takes us.”

“Mmm.” David sinks to his knees in front of him. “How about here?” 

He slides his hands into David’s hair, watching through hooded eyes as David makes quick work of the button and zipper on his dress pants, freeing his cock. He moans, low and rough as David takes him into his mouth, his head thunks back onto the door as he loses himself in the sensation. It feels like mere seconds later that his hands are tightening in David’s hair, pulling sharply, David’s mouth tight around him as he shudders and writhes against the door. 

“Wait…” The word is hard to find.

David releases him with a gentle pop, rising to his feet and pressing him against the door, his larger body firm and solid against him. 

“Fuck…” His eyes are sliding closed as David kisses him sloppily. “Bed?”

“Mmm hmm.” David steps away, pulling him along to the bed at the other side of the room. David tugs his dress shirt off while Patrick pulls off the rest of his clothes. He runs his hands along the planes of David’s chest, before sliding them down along David’s sides to tease at the top of his pants. He leans forward to nip at David’s shoulder before breathing in his ear. “How come you’ve still got these on?” David’s head rocks back, exposing his throat, even as he undoes the fastening on his pants and they drop to the floor. 

Patrick works his way along David’s throat, alternating soft kisses with sharp nips of his teeth, making David’s breath hiss from his open mouth. A hand clutches his hair, jerking his head back so that David can kiss him roughly. He falls onto the edge of the bed, a hand at the back of David’s neck guiding him down on top of him until they’re stretched out beside each other, David’s body partly draped over his own, their mouths still pressed together. 

David’s kiss has gentled into something softer but somehow more intense. He kisses Patrick as though it’s the only thing he’s ever done, like he was born to it. Even as his lips are teasing Patrick’s, his hips are twitching forward against him, tiny thrusts that press David’s cock against his hip. 

He tugs at David’s hip, moving him so that his body is directly above him. The weight of David’s body holds him in place, David’s hands glide down his arms. Patrick aches to have David hold him down, he wiggles slightly, hoping to encourage him, but David kisses the bandage on his shoulder instead, making him groan in annoyance. David’s lips find his nipple and his hips thrust upward into David’s forcing a low moan from his mouth as he rolls his hips more firmly into Patrick’s. 

He could stay like this all night. His lips pressed to David’s, the firm weight of David’s body pressing into him. The constant roll of his hips almost, but not quite, pushing them over the edge. He’s lost in the sensation when David’s lube-slick hand comes around them both, grasping them firmly as he increases the speed and pressure. The increased friction is too much and with a cry he’s coming into David’s hand, David’s body shuddering above him as he follows.

David’s lips find the hollow of his throat, he can feel the pounding of his heart against the pressure. They stay that way for a long moment, panting slightly. With a quick brush of his lips against Patrick’s David levers himself off the bed and pads into the ensuite, returning with a damp cloth to make quick work of cleaning them up. Patrick wraps his arms around him, his head tucked into his shoulder. David’s fingers scratch the hair at the back of his neck, lightly teasing.

“Do you ever want more?” He traces a line down David’s naked chest, watching the goosebumps appear along the path of his finger.

“Mmm?” David’s voice is sleepy.

“We’ve been together for two years. Do you ever wish people knew? That it wasn’t a secret?”

David hasn’t moved but Patrick can tell he’s fully awake now. “We’ve talked about this. You know it’s not a good idea.”

“My teammates know I’m gay, David.” 

“They know you’re gay in theory. Everything changes if you show up with me on your arm.”

“Mmm.” His lips find the spot over David’s heart, his skin still pebbled with gooseflesh. He lifts his head as David’s fingers scratch at the back of his neck.

“I don’t want to be the reason things go sideways for you. Besides your team is one thing, but the fans are another. Imagine what that screamy old guy on TV would say?”

“Yeah.” He knows David is right. The press would have a field day and the team’s fans would probably have lots to say, none of it good. He’s never hidden the fact that he was gay but dating the son of the team’s owner is a whole different level of problems. Still, he wants to shout it from the rooftops and damn the consequences. “You know I love you, right?” He props himself up on one elbow so he can see David’s face.

“Is that what this is about?” David brushes a finger over his cheekbone, it whispers against his skin.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m ashamed of you. Of us.” He kisses David softly.

“How many times have I talked you out of telling people? If anything, I should be asking you that question.”

“Okay. It’s only another four or five years before I can retire, anyway.” There’s another four years to go on his current contract and he’s not sure if he wants to sign another after it expires. He’ll be 35 by then, old in a world where 28 is considered the prime age.

“You think we’re still going to be together five years from now?” David’s tone is light but he can hear the longing beneath the mockery.

“Don’t you?” He watches the emotions flash across David’s face. Hope, disbelief, wonder.

“I want to.”

**DAVID**

They wake up together, bodies tangled like kittens. Patrick kisses David awake until they pick up where they left off the night before, both of them moving slowly together until Patrick comes inside him. 

“Come to the game tomorrow.” Patrick’s fingertips are teasing through his chest hair and he leans over to plant a kiss on David’s shoulder. David tenses at Patrick’s question, remembering the first and only game he’d ever been to see. A player had smashed Patrick into the wall of the auditorium, dropping him limply to the ice. Nauseous, he’d left before seeing Patrick get to his feet.

That was eighteen months ago. He hasn’t been to a game since. 

“Patrick…”

“Just come, for me?” Patrick’s voice is soft and he presses a second kiss to David’s skin. His eyes are warm as he looks up at him.

“I don’t like it when you get hurt.” He runs his fingers gently over the tape on Patrick’s shoulder.

“I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Fine.” He tilts Patrick’s chin so he can kiss him. “But I reserve the right to watch with my eyes closed.”

Patrick laughs softly and his fingers ghost along his cheek. “Deal. I have to go. Practice is at one o’clock.”

Patrick gives him one last kiss and David leans back against the pillows, enjoying the view of his boyfriend’s solid legs and firm ass as he searches for his clothes. Dressed, Patrick turns back at the door. “I’ll text you after the game?”

“Okay.” 

Patrick smiles at him, bright and fond before he slips out the door. As the door closes behind him David fumbles his phone off of the nightstand to text Stevie.

 **David:** Patrick’s making me go to the game tomorrow  
**Stevie:** Good for Patrick  
**David:** The point is that I need you to come with me  
**Stevie:** What if I have plans?  
**David:** You never have plans  
**Stevie:** Fine. But you’re buying the drinks

He rolls his eyes at his phone. Stevie knows full well that there’s no charge for the drinks in the Rose Video suite. 

Even though Stevie is the only one who will see him, he carefully curates his best ‘my boyfriend’s on the hockey team’ look, his diagonal striped black and white sweater adorned with a single maple leaf in honor of Patrick’s team.

When they arrive at the arena, a young woman at the gate hands them both a plastic toy. He takes it gingerly, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “What’s this?”

The young woman gives him a perky smile. “It’s a Patrick Brewer bobblehead.” David frowns at her, confused. “To celebrate his 1000th game?” He stares at her for a second before Stevie nudges him and he moves robotically towards the elevator, the plastic toy clutched carefully in one hand. 

As they’re waiting for the elevator, Stevie looks over at him. “You didn’t know?”

He shakes his head, looking at the figurine. It looks as much like Patrick as a plastic figure can, with Patrick’s reddish brown hair and his number 12 in white on the blue jersey. “He never said.” He wraps his fingers around the toy, cradling it carefully. It’s mass-produced and tacky and he loves it more than anything.

Thankfully, the suite is empty when they arrive. He looks longingly at the couches that are set back from the viewing area, but Stevie steers him to the high-back stools that overlook the ice. “I think when Patrick said you should come to the game, he meant to actually watch it.”

“Ugh, fine.” He takes a seat, looking down at the distant figures of the hockey players on the ice below. The puck drops and the team in blue steals the hockey ball and skates down the ice. David leans over to whisper in Stevie’s ear. “That’s Patrick’s team, right?” She rolls her eyes and nods and he can make out Patrick behind the goal cage. Patrick passes to his teammate as an opposing player shoves him against the wall. David squeezes his eyes shut. “I hate this.”

“He’s okay, look.” Reluctantly, David opens one eye to see Patrick skating back to the pen where they keep all the players when they aren’t on the ice.

Stevie pats his arm and slides off her chair. “Where’s that drink you promised me?” 

He gestures to the kitchenette at the back of the suite. “Bring some snacks, too.”

Patrick is back on the ice. David has no idea what’s happening but a cheer breaks out in the crowd when Patrick steals the ball from another player. “Stevie, Patrick has the ball!”

“Puck.” Stevie sets a glass of wine and a plate of nachos in front of him. 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“The hockey...ball. It’s called a puck.” Stevie looks at him incredulously. “I don’t know what Patrick sees in you. How have you been together for two years and you don’t know anything about hockey?”

He shrugs and looks back at the game. He doesn’t know either. It’s a mystery how he and Patrick came together in the first place and how they’ve stayed together since then. He’s stopped analyzing it, nothing in his past experience prepared him for what they have together. 

On the ice, Patrick still has the puck, he shoots it at the other team’s goal cage. A red light comes on and the crowd rises to its feet. On the ice, Patrick is being hugged by his teammates. Without realizing what he’s doing, David jumps to his feet. “Look, he put the puck in the goal cage!”

“It’s called a net...nevermind, close enough.”

“Does that mean they win?”

“There’s still another fifty minutes left in the game.”

“Oh.” He takes a drink of wine and helps himself to the nachos. “Patrick was right, this is very fun.”

“Fun enough that you’re going to go to all his games?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

Patrick is back on the ice. He races towards the puck when an opposing player thrusts his stick between his feet, bringing him to the ice. The whistle blows and David looks at Stevie, outraged. “That other player just tripped him!” He turns back to the ice, wringing his hands. “Is he okay?”

Stevie is trying not to laugh at him. “He’s fine.” 

On the ice, the umpire is leading the other player across the ice. “Are they kicking that player out of the game? They should, that was very mean.”

Stevie is outright laughing now. “No, he’s just going to the penalty box.” 

He watches as they lock the player into a box on the other side of the ice. “Is that like hockey jail?”

“It’s...yeah, actually, it is like hockey jail.”

“I hope it’s a life sentence.”

The rest of the first act passes uneventfully and a group of tiny hockey players take the ice and skate in erratic circles after the puck. Stevie tops up his glass of wine and looks at him carefully. “So, are you ever going to tell people about you and Patrick?”

He looks down at the ice. Several of the children have fallen down in a pile, the others are skating shakily around them. “He wants to.”

“But you don’t?”

His face twists and he takes a sip of wine. “If people find out we’re together then everything he does is because he’s dating the son of the team’s owner. Maybe if he played for a different team, but...” 

“But?”

“But, I like having him to myself. Without the press or my family knowing about it.” He shudders at the thought of his parents being involved in his relationship. “It’s just...nice to not be on the front page of the tabloids, you know?” 

With Sebastien, the press was all over them from the start, loving the idea of a high profile couple, surprising them at dinner, at a club, on the street. Sebastien lapped it up, preening for the cameras, pressing kisses to David’s flushed cheeks. Kisses Sebastien was reluctant to give when they were in private, so David soaked it up, basking in the attention until things turned sour. 

A horn blows, making him jump and startling him out of his memories as the players come back onto the ice. He watches Patrick line up with his teammates, he pushes and shoves the player beside him as the umpire drops the puck. 

“So your plan is to spend the rest of your life in a secret relationship?”

“No. My plan is to not think too far ahead in case I jinx things.” There’s a groan from the crowd and they look up to see that the other team has scored. 

The second act ends with the score tied at one. Down below, a group of young women on skates are setting up some sort of game while a bear mascot skates around them. The announcer is yelling something about 50/50 tickets as two young women on skates lead an audience member to the middle of the ice. The man slips and slides, trying to find his balance. This is even worse than the hockey match. The nachos are gone so he rummages in the kitchen, discovering an assortment of cheese and crackers.

The players come back onto the ice. He can find Patrick now without seeing his number, his eyes tuned to the way he moves, both similar and different to the way he walks, the skates adding a gracefulness to his usual athleticism. 

The teams move back and forth on the ice, chasing the ball. The puck, he reminds himself. The puck goes in behind Patrick’s team’s goal cage but Patrick lingers by the blue line. Without warning, the puck slides free and Patrick flies up the ice alone, the other players chasing after him. He shoots the puck, a hard high shot that sails past the goaltender. Patrick launches himself into the glass, making it shake as his teammates surround him, hugging him and patting him on the head with their enormous mittens. 

David looks a Stevie, frowning. “What is he doing?”

“He scored a goal.”

“I know, but...he should be careful.” He feels like he’s watching a horror movie where every moment has the potential for Patrick to be hurt.

“David. Patrick plays eighty games a year, he knows what he’s doing.”

He grimaces and nods at her, unconvinced. The rest of the game is uneventful and Patrick’s team wins 2-1. He watches the players leave the ice, his eyes following Patrick’s number 12 until it disappears down the tunnel. He and Stevie are in the elevator when his phone buzzes with a text.

 **Patrick:** Did you like the game?  
**David:** You looked very cute in your hockey costume  
**David:** And I liked the parts where you put the hockey ball in the goal cage  
**Patrick:** You mean the puck?  
**David:** Sure, that  
**Patrick:** Meet me at the park tomorrow? 1pm?

There’s only one park Patrick could be referring to. It’s where they first met two years ago. He’d been sitting alone on one of the park benches when Patrick’s cricket ball bounced to a stop at his feet. Since then, it had become a regular meeting place for them. In the auditorium parking lot, he scowls at the snow, knowing the park will be cold, but he can’t resist Patrick’s request.

 **David:** See you tomorrow.  
**David:** Goodnight Patrick

**PATRICK**

He knows David will be late but he still gets to the park before one o’clock. The bench is covered with snow, so he brushes it clear, settling onto the cold wooden slats. It’s snowing lightly, large flakes drifting slowly, adding to the ankle-deep snow that coats the ground. He pulls his toque more firmly over his ears. Combined with his thick winter coat, his odds of being recognized, even in hockey-mad Toronto, are slim. 

Across the park, David’s black and white figure is making his way towards him. He’s wearing a black, knee-length, down jacket topped by a black toque and a black and white scarf. As he gets closer, Patrick can see that only a thin strip of his face is showing.

“This is ridiculous.”

He gets off the bench so he can wrap his arms around David’s waist. The bulkiness of their winter coats makes it less than intimate, so he leans up to kiss the tip of David’s nose. It’s icy cold beneath his lips.

“What’s ridiculous? We have the whole park to ourselves and it’s beautiful.”

“You’re ridiculous.” David tries to scowl, but his lips are twitching up in a smile, ruining the effect. He rests his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and they stand together like two over-dressed bears as the snow falls around them.

He pulls David close and kisses him, David’s cold lips a contrast to the warmth of his mouth. “I love you, David.”

The words are familiar now, and David’s face lights up when he says them. Any uncertainty David had about saying the words has long since vanished. 

David’s smile wins out over his scowl and he reaches up a mittened hand to brush away the snow that’s clinging to Patrick’s cheek. “I love you too.” He looks behind them at the shops across the street from the park. “Can we have coffee now? And maybe a cookie?”

He laughs, taking David’s mittened hand in his own. “We can do that.” They trudge through the powdery snow to the coffee shop across the street. Inside, David gives his complicated order to the barista while Patrick orders a regular coffee and two cookies. They settle into the back corner of the coffee shop. Like the park, it’s deserted, the weather is keeping most people away. As he strips off his outer coat, David pulls something from his pocket and sets it in front of him. The plastic toy nods at him happily.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He picks up the bobblehead for a closer look. He knew that they were giving them out for the game, but he hasn’t seen one up close. Other than the number on the back of the jersey it looks nothing like him. He shrugs at David. “You’re not usually interested in hockey things.”

David sits beside him so their shoulders are pressed together. “Is it important to you? 1000 games? That seems like a lot.”

“Yeah, kind of.” He sets the toy on the table. “Not many players make it that far.”

“Then you should have told me.” 

He sits forward so he can touch his finger to the bobblehead, watching it bounce and nod. “You’re right, I should have told you.” He leans back against David, his body warm against his back. 

David licks the foam from his lips. “I know how you can make it up to me.” 

“Mmm?” It’s easy to be distracted by David, especially when they’re in public and he can’t do the things he wants to do to him.

David’s eyes meet his and a smirk twists his mouth as he guesses what Patrick is thinking. “They just released a bunch of Julia Stiles movies on Netflix. I think you owe me a Julia Stiles-athon.”

He shakes his head, grinning at David. “Now who’s ridiculous?”

“There is nothing ridiculous about Julia Stiles.” Before David can launch into a passionate defense of Julia Stiles and romantic comedies, Patrick cuts him off.

“We can watch all the Julia Stiles’ movies you want.” He holds David’s eyes until David bites his lip. “As long as I get to choose what we do afterwards.”

**DAVID**

Three days later he’s getting ready to meet Stevie for lunch when someone bangs on his apartment door. He opens it to find Patrick, his face drawn and pale standing in the hallway, his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. 

“What are you doing here?” Patrick has a game tonight, they never see each other on game day. 

Patrick pushes past him into the apartment. The door barely has time to shut behind him before Patrick is turning to kiss him, long and hard. “I’ve been traded.” His world stops for a moment. He doesn’t understand much about the hockey world, but judging by the look on Patrick’s face, this is bad news. 

“What do you mean, traded?” He stares at Patrick in disbelief. They already struggle to see each other more than once or twice a week. Maybe this is just an excuse for Patrick to break up with him. It’s probably inevitable anyway, it’s been a miracle that they’ve stayed together so long, it’s almost impossible to think that he would be capable of sustaining a long distance relationship. Before he can come to terms with that idea, Patrick confirms his fears.

Patrick laughs, the sound of it is harsh and bitter. “I mean I play for the Winnipeg Jets now. I have a flight in two hours.”

“How can they do that? Don’t they like you?” 

“I don’t have a no trade clause, they can send me wherever they want.” Patrick rubs the back of his neck. “David…”

“Maybe I can talk to someone.” What’s the point of his dad owning the team if things like this are going to happen? He stares at Patrick defiantly, desperate to cling to the remains of the best relationship he’s ever had.

“You can’t. The trade deadline was today. No more trades are allowed until the off-season.” Patrick grips his shoulders, his fingers digging in uncomfortably. “I had to see you before I left.”

Patrick’s eyes are usually calm, a place of refuge where David can lose himself, but today there’s a desperation, a wildness that he’s never seen before. “I can’t leave without asking you something.” He pulls a long velvet box out of his pocket. “I didn’t want to do it this way, but I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. David, will you marry me?”

He opens the box. The four gold rings sparkle back at him and he chokes back a sob. He wants Patrick more than anything. He wants to wake up in the morning beside him, to introduce him as his husband, to find him across a crowded room. He wants to hurl himself into Patrick’s arms and whisper yeses into his lips, but the frantic look in Patrick’s eyes stops him. 

He can hear the note of desperation in Patrick’s voice. David runs the tips of his fingers along the four gold rings. They’re perfect and he wants so badly to say yes to this man who he loves more than anything. 

“No. I can’t. Not like this.” He shuts the velvet box with a snap. He dares a look at Patrick, a mask has fallen over his face, hard and closed. His stomach sinks.

“I see.” Patrick takes the box back from David. “I have a plane to catch.” Without another word he’s gone, the door to the apartment shutting quietly behind him. David collapses onto the couch like a marionette whose strings have been cut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to the people of Winnipeg.

**DAVID**

David is still sitting on the couch minutes or hours or days later, fixed in place when the persistent buzzing of his phone jolts him out of his despair. Hoping it might be Patrick, he opens his phone to find five messages from Stevie.

**Stevie:** Where are you?  
 **Stevie:** We were supposed to meet half an hour ago  
 **Stevie:** You owe me a bottle of wine for every 15 minutes you’re late  
 **Stevie:** David?  
 **Stevie:** Are you okay?

He stares at her last message as everything from his conversation with Patrick wells up inside him. 

**David:** No

There’s no response to his text. He leans his head back against the couch. First Patrick and now his best friend have both abandoned him. He shuts his eyes, wishing he could numb the pain or maybe skip ahead in time so he wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore. For the second time that afternoon, there’s a loud banging on his door. He struggles off the couch and opens it to find Stevie, a concerned look on her face.

“What’s going on?”

He stares at her helplessly for a long moment before moving aside so she can come into the apartment. “Patrick asked me to marry him.”

Stevie narrows her eyes at him. “And you’re having second thoughts?”

“I said no.”

“Why would you do that?” Stevie’s voice rises at the end, incredulous. “Patrick’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I know.” He sinks back onto the couch, twisting his rings. “He’s been traded. To Winnipeg.” His face scrunches in distaste at the thought. “He was so desperate, I didn’t want to…” His voice trails off and he clears his throat. “I didn’t want it just to be because he was leaving.”

“And did you say that?” He looks at her bleakly and shakes his head against the back of the couch.

“David. Patrick may have asked in a hurry, but he plans everything. He had a ring, didn’t he?” Stevie tilts her head and looks at him quizzically.

“Rings.” His whisper slides through the room, barely audible. Stevie glances at the silver rings on his right hand.

“Yeah, it’s pretty clear he didn’t put any thought into this at all.”

He covers his face with his hands, trying to block out everything that’s happened.

“I have to go back to work, are you going to be okay by yourself?”

He nods, even though he’s not sure he believes it. After Stevie leaves, he curls up in a ball on the couch, the image of Patrick’s face when he’d turned down the proposal replaying in his mind. 

Winnipeg. He has, obviously, never been to Winnipeg. He’s sure that no normal person would voluntarily go to Winnipeg, especially at the end of February. It would be unpleasant and remote even if he and Patrick were still together. Now it might as well be the ends of the earth. 

**PATRICK**

His ride to the airport passes in a blur. David’s face is frozen behind his eyelids, the sound of the ring box snapping closed repeating over and over in his ears. He should never have asked David like that. He should have known David would never follow him to Winnipeg. The thoughts cycle over and over in his mind, consuming him until he arrives at the airport. He pays his driver and checks in, grateful to find his gate mostly deserted. 

He’s trying to get comfortable on the thinly padded seat when there’s a small voice beside him. 

“‘Cuse me?” A little girl, maybe six years old, is standing next to him, her father hovering protectively behind her.

“Hi.” He smiles at her, or tries to, he’s not sure sure his face cooperates fully.

“Are you Patrick Brewer?” The girl is missing her front teeth and she lisps the words. 

“I am. What’s your name?”

The little girl’s eyes are wide and she whispers her name. “Cora.” 

“Do you play hockey, Cora?”

The little girl nods vigorously, her blond pigtails bounce up and down. “I scored three goals in my last game.” She looks down at her shoes. “You’re my favorite player.”

“Tell you what.” He fumbles in the front pocket of his bag, where he usually keeps a couple of spare pucks and and a marker. “How would you like a signed puck?” The little girl’s mouth forms into a round O and she nods again. He pulls out a puck and bites his lip when he sees the Maple Leafs logo staring back at him. The Leafs had drafted him, he’s never played for another team. He scrawls a quick ‘To Cora, Keep scoring goals!’ on the puck and signs his name and number underneath. “There you go.”

Cora beams at him. “Thank you.” She turns to her dad, holding up the puck for him to see. Her dad nods his thanks and the two of them disappear into the seating area behind him. 

Abruptly, everything is too much. Being traded, his conversation with David, the weight of it settles onto him like stone. He pulls out his phone and dials a number he’s called for twenty years.

“Patrick.” Rachel’s voice fills his ear, making him smile. “I heard what happened, are you okay?” For a second, he thinks she’s talking about David, but then he remembers that the trade will have been on the news.

“I…” There’s a lump in his throat. “I’m not sure.”

“How did David take it?” He’d known she would ask. He’d phoned her in part because she was one of a handful of people who knew about him and David. Still, hearing David’s name is like a knife to his heart.

“I think I made a terrible mistake.” 

“Patrick…” Even through the phone her voice is soft. “What happened?”

“I asked David to marry me.” Rachel doesn’t say anything, she simply waits for him to continue. “It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it before, but I think I panicked about leaving.” It’s hard to say the next words, he clears his throat. “He said no, Rach.” Saying it out loud makes it real and he wishes he wasn’t in an airport surrounded by strangers. 

“Did he say why?”

He shakes his head before remembering that Rachel can’t see him. “No.”

“Maybe you should ask him?” Her voice is gentle.

The thought of talking to David, of asking him to explain why he’d turned his back on what they had makes everything inside him ache. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Okay.” There’s a long pause and he listens to her breathe on the other end of the phone. In the background he hears the flight attendant call his flight. 

“They’re boarding my flight, I have to go.”

“Patrick. Call me if you want to talk about it.”

“I will. And Rach...thanks for being there.”

On the plane, he settles into his seat, grateful for his first class ticket. The seat beside his is empty, he waves away the flight attendant and stares out the window. His phone buzzes, he opens the text to find details from the team about his first days in Winnipeg. He’s already had calls from the coach and team captain, welcoming him to the team. Everyone has been friendly, doing their best to make his transition as easy as possible. The plane taxis down the runway. All he can think about is that he’s leaving David behind.

Having to leave David has been part of his job, mitigated only by the enthusiasm of David’s welcome every time he returns. But leaving has never, ever felt like this. He rests his head back against the seat, watching the lakes and forests of northern Ontario pass far below, the ache inside him growing with every kilometer that passes.

**DAVID**

“Get up.”

David opens his eyes and squints at the voice. Stevie stands at the end of his bed, her arms crossed. “Go away.”

“Get up.” She grabs the covers and yanks, leaving him exposed in his t-shirt and sleep pants.

“How did you get in here, anyway?” He folds his arms across his chest and glares at her.

“You gave me a key. Get up.”

“That was for emergencies. Like a fire. Or an earthquake.”

“You’ve barely left this bed in two weeks. I think this is an emergency.”

“I’ve been to the gallery.” There’s no point in getting up if Patrick isn’t here. If he isn’t coming back. He hasn’t heard from Patrick since he’d walked out of David’s apartment, ring box clenched in his hand. He wants to text him, he knows it’s his fault, that he needs to be the one to reach out. It’s just that he doesn’t know what to say. I’m sorry I couldn’t say yes. Can we just pretend this didn’t happen and start again? He closes his eyes so Stevie won’t be able to see the pain in his eyes.

“Your assistant says you come in at eleven and leave by one. Get. Up.” He can tell she won’t let this go until he does what she says. He swings his legs out of the bed and sits on the edge peering at her sulkily.

“Fine. What now?”

“Now you’re going to get dressed and then we’re going to my place to get very, very drunk.” 

“I knew you were my best friend for a reason.”

Stevie leaves the room so he can pull on his comfiest sweater, a mohair zebra-print sweater that’s soft against his skin. The sweater brushes against his body, reminding him of the stroke of Patrick’s hands. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, building his walls to hold back his thoughts of Patrick.

At Stevie’s apartment, he sinks into her couch as she pours him a glass of wine. She lets him drink half of it, watching him over the top of her glass until he feels some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“So, are you going to talk to him?” Stevie tops up his glass. 

“I don’t know what to say.” He takes another drink of wine. “I just want him back. But he’s never coming back because he lives in fucking Winnipeg now.” 

“Have you thought about going there?”

“To Winnipeg?” His voice rises, he can’t quite imagine anything worse than going to Winnipeg in March. “Patrick doesn’t want to see me.”

Stevie raises her eyebrows at him. “Did he say that?”

“He didn’t have to.” The look on Patrick’s face as he’d walked out of David’s apartment is all the confirmation he needs that Patrick doesn’t want to see him again. He leans his head back against the couch, hoping Stevie will let it go. Thankfully, she pours him another glass of wine and tells him a story about her day at work.

He and Stevie finish off two bottles of wine. Stevie drifts off beside him on the couch, but thoughts of Patrick consume him. Checking to make sure Stevie is fully asleep, he sneaks into the bathroom with his phone and dials Patrick’s number, getting his voicemail.

“Hi David, it’s Patrick.” He shakes his head, he must be drunker than he thought, but he presses on. “I was just calling to tell you that I miss you. God, I miss you so fucking much and I wish...I wish you were here...or I was there…” His voice trails off and he sits for a minute, the voicemail recording his breathing until he sighs and ends the call. He rests his head on his arms for a minute before dialling the number again. “I’m sorry. I have no right to call you.” Pain unfurls inside him, engulfing his words. “You can...you can just delete that message.”

**PATRICK**

The phone vibrates in his hand. It’s late and the light from the screen is the only thing illuminating his hotel room. Not that he was sleeping. He’d spent this night the same way he had every night since he’d come to Winnipeg, staring at the ceiling, thinking about David. Still, when David’s number had flashed on the screen, he couldn’t bring himself to answer it, couldn’t let the wounds be clawed open.

He stares at the phone. The voicemail notification pops up on the screen, lingering until the phone goes dark again. He sits for a long moment, steeling himself to listen to the message when his phone vibrates again and David’s picture pops up on the screen. His thumb hovers over the button but before he can answer the call it goes to voicemail.

Taking a deep breath he calls his voicemail. From his first words he can tell that David is drunk. He hopes David is with Stevie, the background of the call is echoey but it lacks the noise of a club. He bites his lips together as he listens to the message. “I miss you too.” He whispers the words to the empty hotel room that’s been his home since he was traded. 

Before he can think about why he’s doing it, he saves the message and moves on to the next voicemail. The defeat in David’s voice tears at him. He ends the call and the room is plunged into darkness. He wants so badly to call David but he can’t start the conversation they need to have when David is drunk. Eventually he falls asleep, phone clutched in one hand.

The next morning, he listens to David’s voicemails again, the pain from the night before ricochets through him. He knows it’s too early for David to be awake, but he texts him anyway. 

**Patrick:** I got your messages.

He stares at his phone for a minute hoping, but there’s no response. He gets ready to head to the rink for the morning practice feeling lighter than he has since he came to Winnipeg.

As soon as he can after practice is over, he checks his phone.

**David:** And you just erased them without listening to them?

It makes him smile even as he knows that David both wants and fears that he deleted the messages. 

**Patrick:** No I listened to all of them.

It feels good to banter with David again. It feels good to do anything with David again. 

**Patrick:** Did you mean it? What you said last night?

There’s a long pause and he worries he’s scared David away. Finally his phone buzzes.

**David:** Yes

**Patrick:** I miss you too.

As much as he misses David, he has no idea what to do next. The hockey season lasts until early April and it seems likely that the team will make the playoffs. It could be months before he can get back to Toronto. Still, even if he can’t see David until then he’s not willing to give up this glimmer of hope.

**Patrick:** Tell me about the gallery

It’s been two weeks. He and David text every day about David’s gallery, about how cold it is in Winnipeg, about Alexis’ latest adventures, neither of them wanting to be the first to risk a deeper, more important conversation. He’s addicted to it even as his heart aches. 

Maybe this will be what they are to each other, good friends with a past that neither of them wants to talk about. Friends who see each other every now and then, who meet for coffee or go for drinks. Friends who are eventually forced to see the love of their life with someone else. Would David find someone else? Or would he fall back into his old habits of short term relationships with anyone who wanted something? He clenches his hands at the thought of it, digging his nails into his palms. 

He flips through the channels on the TV, his team plays Colorado in a couple of days, so he turns on their game, putting it on mute to block out the announcer’s inane chatter. He dials Rachel’s number, desperate for a friendly voice.

“Patrick.” He hasn’t talked to her since that day in the airport.

“Hi Rach.” There’s a long pause as he tries to find the words to ask what he wants to know. “How did you do it? How did you stay friends with me?” His voice trembles a little on the last word.

“Oh. Patrick…” Her voice is warm, but he can hear a note of sorrow underneath it. “I always wanted you to be happy. Besides, it wasn’t like we were ever going to be in a relationship again.” She laughs wistfully, although she hadn’t laughed the day he’d told her he was gay when they’d broken up for the last time. The laughter had taken time to grow between them.

“Yeah.” He wishes things were so clear cut between himself and David. 

“Have you talked to David?” Rachel asks the question carefully as though she’s afraid of hurting him.

“We’ve been texting. About the weather, mostly.”

“Don’t give up. I’m pretty sure David doesn’t care about the weather.” 

“Yeah. It’s just...Toronto is a long way away.”

“He loves you, Patrick.” Her voice leaves no room for argument. “The rest is just logistics.”

He keeps texting David, not willing to give up if there’s a glimmer of hope, but not knowing how to move forward. For the first time he looks at breaking his contract, but the financial penalties are too great. He’s trapped here, hundreds of kilometers from where he wants to be. 

After a week, he falls into a routine. Most of his time is spent at the rink but when he’s alone, no distraction is enough to take his mind off David. 

It’s an off-day and the team has an afternoon practice. He’s the last one out of the dressing room. His legs feel like lead and the pressure of fitting into a new team, combined with his heartache over David, gnaws at him. He’s played terribly since he came to Winnipeg and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he hears about it from his coach. With a sigh, he picks up his bag and nods at the member of the equipment staff who is gathering gloves and skates from the player stalls before he leaves the room. 

He comes to an abrupt halt just outside the dressing room door. A familiar black and white figure leans against the wall. The fluorescent lights aren’t doing him any favors, bringing out the dark shadows under his eyes. He’s still the most beautiful thing Patrick has ever seen. “What are you doing here?” It’s a whisper and his voice cracks on the last word.

David plays with his rings. His mouth twists and his eyes are bright when they meet Patrick’s. “I think I made a mistake.”

“David…” He can’t have this conversation here. He can’t let David rip his heart out for a second time. 

“Just let me finish. And then, if you want me to leave, I’ll go.” 

He closes his eyes for a second and sets his bag down at his feet, leaning back against the wall opposite and crossing his arms. He stays back, out of reach of the temptation of David’s arms. “Okay.”

“I should have said yes.” The words hang in the air, suspended between them before David rushes to continue. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I wanted to say yes, I wanted it so badly, but you were leaving and desperate. I wanted you to be sure. I wanted to know that it wasn’t just because you had to come here.” David waves his hand at the concrete walls, a look of disgust on his face. “It’s been hard enough, I couldn’t bear saying yes only to find out that this was too much for either of us.”

David falls silent, his hands continue to worry at his rings. Patrick stares at him until David drops his eyes, fingers twisting his rings around and around and around. Patrick is grateful for the wall at his back, holding him up. His heart is breaking again. Or maybe the pieces are knitting themselves back together. Either way, it’s painful in a way he’s never felt before. He still hasn’t said anything. He longs to launch himself across the hallway, but he can’t quite force his body to move.

“I...I should go.” The familiar mask that Patrick thought he had banished months ago starts to creep across David’s face.

“No.” He forces himself to take a half-step forward. “No.” His hand twitches towards David before it falls back to his side. “I don’t want you to leave.” Naked relief flashes across David’s face.

“What do you want?” The words bounce off of the brick walls, slamming into him.

“The same thing I’ve always wanted.” He laughs but there’s no humor to it. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted. Just you. Always you.” He runs a hand through his hair, it’s longer now, he hasn’t had the energy to find someone to cut it. He doesn’t know how to go forward from here. David was right, it was hard when they lived in the same city but he knows David won’t want to come back to Winnipeg. “Look, the season is over in a couple weeks. I’ll come back to Toronto and we can have some time together…”

“No.” He freezes at David’s words. “No.” His heart had been repairing itself, he decides, but the temporary stitches are torn apart by David’s words. “I don’t want to be an off-season relationship for you.” David looks at him defiantly, arms crossed. “What do you really want?”

“I want to marry you.” The words are quiet but they fill up the space between them. David’s eyes hold his, unflinching.

“Patrick…” David looks as wrecked as he feels. “You could ask me again. If you wanted.” His voice is pitchy and it cracks in the middle of the sentence but David’s eyes are glued to his.

He bites his lip. It’s too much. But David has always been too much, it’s one of the things he loves most about him. “David Rose,” he breathes out the words. “Will you marry me?”

David is nodding before he can finish the question and his long arms wrap tightly around his neck, his face burrows into his shoulder. His voice isn’t any louder than Patrick’s but his answer rings like a bell in Patrick’s ear. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

**DAVID**

“Come home with me. To the hotel, I mean.” Patrick’s arms are still wrapped around his back. David’s not sure how they’ll make it back to the hotel when neither of them wants to break their embrace but he nods hard against Patrick’s neck.

“Yes.” It might be the only word he’s capable of, as though he can only agree to anything Patrick asks. 

The fingers that are digging into his shoulders slowly relax and Patrick pulls back just far enough to look David in the eyes. “How long can you stay?”

He starts to shake his head before Patrick can get the words out. “I bought a one way ticket.” A smile flickers at the corners of Patrick’s mouth before blossoming into a broad grin. “Unless you don’t want me here?”

Patrick is kissing him. Sort of. He’s smiling so widely that he’s simply pressing his mouth to David’s as the laughter bubbles out of him. “I want you here.”

Patrick’s hotel is across the street from the hockey auditorium. Patrick takes his hand as they leave the stadium, he tenses for a moment but Patrick tugs him closer. “We’re not in Toronto anymore, remember?”

They get into the elevator with a young boy and his mother, the three adults stand awkwardly watching the floors increase as the boy steals sideways glances at Patrick. As they get off at the tenth floor, David hears the boy’s excited voice as the elevator doors close. “That was Patrick Brewer!”

He loops his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, pulling him back against his body. “Let’s hope that boy doesn’t have the media on speed dial.” He nuzzles at Patrick’s neck, Patrick inhales sharply as David’s teeth find his ear. The elevator stops on the fifteenth floor and David pushes him out the doors. 

Patrick’s room is at the end of the hallway. He fumbles his key card into the lock. David’s hands are firm on his hips, pulling them together. As soon as the door clanks shut behind them, Patrick shoves him against it, thrusting his hands into David’s hair so he can bring their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. 

How long has it been since he’s felt the thrust of Patrick’s tongue into his mouth? How long since Patrick has pushed against him, demanding more? Decades, he thinks. Or maybe centuries. 

Patrick’s grip on his hair holds him firmly but he manages to wrench his lips away. “Bedroom?” 

“Mmm hmm.” Giving him one last nip on the jaw, Patrick’s hands slide out of his hair. He pulls David through his hotel suite to the separate bedroom. 

He sinks onto the end of the king bed. The curtains are open and the lights of the city are shining in the growing dusk. It’s too much. He pulls Patrick towards him, resting the top of his head against Patrick’s chest. He lets out a shaky breath as Patrick’s fingers stroke the short hair at the back of his neck.

“David?”

He smooths his hands up the back of Patrick’s thighs, closing his eyes. “I thought...I thought I might never have this again.”

Patrick’s hand stops moving. “I know.” His hand cups David’s jaw, tilting his head back. “But we do.” The look in his eyes burns with love and want and longing, chasing away David’s other emotions. Patrick’s eyes grow dark and he licks his lips. The sight of it goes straight through David and he tugs at Patrick. Overbalanced, Patrick falls on top of him. Together, they land in the middle of the bed, he pants as Patrick’s hips roll into his.

Patrick kisses him, slow and sure, his arms bracketing David’s head. Lifting himself up, he kneels over David’s legs, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the floor. “Sweater.” Patrick pulls at his hem, the demand clear in his voice. He sits up far enough that Patrick can pull it over his head, he folds it and tosses it gently onto the side table behind him.

Patrick ghosts his hands over David’s naked chest, a featherlight touch that makes every nerve in his body vibrate. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you to fuck me.”

Patrick’s eyes grow even darker and he growls in response. He grinds his hips into David, making him whimper. “How are you still wearing so many clothes?”

“You’re one to talk.” He tries to sass Patrick back, but a needy whine gives him away. Patrick scrambles off of him long enough for them both to leave their remaining clothing in a pile on the floor before he’s back, running his hands over every inch of David’s body. Finally, Patrick’s fingers press and move inside him, making his back arch as he seeks more. When Patrick finally pushes into him, he moans, low and deep. They come together with a cry, tears leaking from his eyes as the walls holding back his emotions come crashing down. 

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Patrick’s fingers wipe the tears from his cheeks. He opens his eyes to see Patrick blinking rapidly, chasing away his own tears before they can fall. Patrick’s hands cup his face and he looks at David until he can’t stand it any longer and he’s forced to look away. Patrick presses kisses to his lips, his forehead, the tip of his nose before collapsing beside him.

He wraps himself around Patrick, trying to maximize the touch of their bodies, to have every square inch of his skin covered by Patrick. Patrick leans back into him, pressing his naked back more firmly against David’s bare chest. 

“Mmm, wait.” Patrick wriggles slightly, freeing an arm to reach for the bedside table. David protests at the gap that appears between them, resenting any separation. The noise dies in the back of his throat when Patrick rummages in the drawer, emerging with the velvet ring box. A sound that’s part sob part hiccough escapes him as Patrick pushes himself upright against the pillows. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?” Patrick raises an eyebrow at him and he can hear the edge of doubt in his voice. He shakes his head as the ability to speak deserts him, sliding upwards to sit beside Patrick, their naked shoulders pressed together.

Patrick opens the box. The rings are just as he remembers them, shining against the black velvet of the box. Instead of reaching for the gold rings, Patrick takes his right hand and slowly slides the first silver ring off his finger. He holds his breath as Patrick slips the second ring off his finger with intoxicating slowness. The brush of Patrick fingers lingers against his own and a low gasp escapes his lips.

The third and fourth rings follow and Patrick presses a kiss to his palm as he sets the loose rings into the top of the ring box. He curves his fingers around Patrick’s cheek, closing his eyes against the firm pressure of Patrick’s lips on his hand. 

Patrick releases his hand, pulling the first gold ring from the box. He offers his left hand, it’s trembling slightly as Patrick slips the first ring onto his ring finger. “Oh.” The word slips out unexpectedly at the sight of the first ring on his hand. Patrick grins at him, cupping the back of his neck and kissing him gently.

“I love you, David.” He slides the remaining three rings onto his fingers. Together, they flash and catch the light. 

“I love you too.” He pulls Patrick back down so he can curl his body around him. His eyes are heavy as Patrick weaves their fingers together, pushing him towards sleep.

**DAVID**

He’s sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, back against the arm rest, sock feet stretched out in front of him when he hears Patrick’s keys in the lock. The deep blue suit his fiance is wearing for game day fits him perfectly, the rich color brings out the red highlights in his hair and the cut of the jacket emphasizes his broad shoulders.

“Hi honey, did you win your hockey match?” Patrick’s hand cups his chin, tilting his head back to give him a slow sweet kiss.

“We did win, which you would know if you’d bothered to watch even the last five minutes.” Patrick’s fingers graze his cheek as he releases him, moving to sit on the couch beside him.

“Notting Hill was on.” David lifts his legs so Patrick can tuck himself beneath them. “Besides, I came all the way to Winnipeg for you. You can’t expect me to watch hockey too.” Patrick takes the glass of wine from his hand and takes a drink. “Did you make any…”

“...goals?” Patrick smirks at him as he finishes David’s wine. “Just one. And an assist. But we clinched a playoff spot tonight.”

He sighs, knowing that means even more hockey but Patrick looks so happy he can’t complain. Patrick runs a hand up his calf, his fingers coming to a stop at the back of his knee. “They asked about you tonight.”

A shiver of anxiety runs through him. “Who did?”

“The reporters. They’d heard we were engaged.” Patrick strokes up and down his leg, soothing him. “I said you owned an art gallery.”

“And?” He’s still not used to the idea that people know about the two of them.

“And then they asked me about what we needed to do to win in the playoffs.” Patrick’s hand creeps a little higher.

“That’s it?” His voice is high and reedy and Patrick squeezes his leg reassuringly. 

“That’s it.” 

“Oh.” He chews on the inside of his cheek.

“David…?”

“I just thought there would be some interest, you know? Not that no one would care.” It’s stupid. He shouldn’t care about this. It’s why he insisted on keeping their relationship hidden for the past two years. Still, it feels like they were keeping a secret for nothing.

“Did you want to have a press conference? Or we could send some X-rated photos to the tabloids?” Patrick raises an eyebrow at him. His hand is moving again, back and forth, grounding him.

He makes a face at his fiance. Patrick laughs at him, his hand still moving up and down his leg. “You’re a high profile person…”

“I’m a high profile person?” Patrick frowns and looks at him, his hand stops moving. “What is this really about?”

“Fine. People always gloated whenever my relationships would fail. So I guess I just wanted to prove everyone wrong.”

“David, the only people I care about know about us. My parents know. Your parents know. Your sister knows. Rachel knows. Stevie knows.” Patrick pulls him close for a kiss. “If you want me to, I will hire a skywriter to tell people that I’m completely in love with you but no one who sees it would matter. Except for you.”

“Mmm. That sounds kind of nice, actually.” He tangles his fingers with Patrick’s. “Could there be fireworks? Or a parade. Or…”

“David.” Patrick’s hand is firm on the back of his neck. “Stop talking.” Patrick kisses him, his lips not leaving any room for more arguments or suggestions. He might be stuck in Winnipeg where no one cares who he is, but it’s a million times better than living in Toronto without Patrick. He pulls Patrick down on top of him, losing himself in kissing his fiance. 

“I’m really glad you moved to Winnipeg, David.”

He can’t stop his face from twisting in disgust. “Would we say ‘moved’ or just visiting indefinitely?”

“Okay, David.” Patrick kisses him again, teasing.

“Patrick.” He pulls back far enough that he can whisper the words. “This is everything I want. Right here.”

“Me too.” Patrick’s lips find the sensitive spot beneath his ear. “Me too.”


End file.
